


Money Lending and Other Sins

by EmoKai478



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Crossdressing, M/M, Maybe OOC, Newt almost gets raped, Oh yeah Strauss A.K.A. Tax Daddy is here too, Outlaw Percival Graves, Protective Original Percival Graves, Rating May Change, Theseus is an asshole, They actually have a plan, They're all part of a gang, Yee Yee AU, because, brief angst, idk - Freeform, red dead redemption au, yeah...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmoKai478/pseuds/EmoKai478
Summary: After traveling with a gang of outlaws, including his fiance, Percival Graves, Newt finally gets to go on a job...in a dress. A man named Charlie Samson owes a debt to Herr Strauss and it doesn't seem like he's going to be paying it back soon, and apparently, he likes red-heads.





	1. I Trust You

**Author's Note:**

> Just finished RDR2 and now im sad and i have terminal lumbago lol

Newt had only been welcomed into the game about four months ago, but he had already built a strong relationship with the one and only Percival Graves about a year before. They had met in the saloon in Saint Denis when the smartly dressed man offered to buy the awkward copper-haired boy a drink. He had seen Newt, who was nineteen at the time, sulking in one corner of the saloon, red locks covering his gorgeous green eyes.

He had asked why such a lovely young man was sitting alone, all by himself. Newt had blushed at the compliment, mumbling out about how his brother had set him up to marry his cousin, a posh lady named Lucy. After having him describe her, Percival scoffed, telling him that she sounded like an absolute clown. Newt had giggled, saying that she was an absolute delight.

“I would rather marry a snake before being anywhere near her,” he had remarked, taking the offered drink with a graceful hand.

They had met a few more times, and over the course of six months, Percival learned more and more about the striking young man. Newt was an animal lover, always sneaking away from his lessons as a child to visit the stables and talk to the horses. He would take care of sick dogs and cats that he found in the back alleys of Saint Denis, nursing them back to health. He talked fondly about a cat named Trico that followed him around whenever he saw him.

The seventh month they had been seeing each other, Percival had asked Newt to marry him. Of course, they couldn’t actually get married. Newt broke off the engagement with his cousin and had been cast out by his brother, who said he was ashamed of him and that he had failed him. Newt was devastated, but Percival was there to hold him to his chest and comfort him. One night, after Percival had gotten particularly drunk, he had revealed what his line of work was. Before then, Newt had never gotten a straight answer when he asked his lover about his work, and then he had understood why.

“There was this one time where me and the gang got shot up in Valentine. Bloody lawmen set up a trap. They were everywhere, spilling out from every building in sight. We managed to get out, but those snakes keep on following us around!” Of course, he would’ve never said anything like that if he was sober, but he had drowned glass after glass after a specifically hard day. The only indication that he was drunk was the fact that his face was slightly flushed and that he was spilling secret after secret with every glass.

Afterwards, Percival had expected Newt to leave and never talk to him again, but Newt didn’t seem to bat an eye. He was absolutely furious that his fiance had kept the truth from him for so long, but he still loved him.

A month later, a panicked Percival came to his room in the inn, telling him to pack up his belongings and to come with him. After Newt had all of his thing—including Trico, who had snuck into the room with him—the older man all but yanked him out of the inn and into the stagecoach waiting outside. Newt demanded to know what was going on, but his fiance shushed him with a kiss, promising that he would tell him when they were gone—whatever that meant.

They arrived of what was left of the camp in Shady Belle, which was being packed up hurriedly by the women of the gang. Over the course of the next few days, they had travelled to another town called Valentine and had set up camp hidden in the trees. 

Percival had explained on the way that, after a mix up with another gang member and the law, they had decided that it would’ve been safer to move before their camp was found. They were currently saving up money to travel to New York to make a new, more civilized life for them.

Newt, who had been suddenly thrown into a completely different life than the one he was leading before, quickly warmed up to the change. He immediately made friends with Tina and Queenie Goldstein, and Queenie’s husband, Jacob Kowalski. They were nice to him while the others seemed wary of him. Of course, they wouldn’t say anything as long as he was in Percival’s sight, but he saw the looks they gave him when they thought he wasn’t working. He never brought up his concern to his fiance; he didn’t want him to worry about something so silly.

Leopold Strauss (I’m sorry I couldn’t leave Tax Daddy out of this) called for Percival’s attention, beckoning him over to hand him a piece of paper. “A man named Charlie Samson had borrowed money from me a while ago and his debt has long since been overdue. By now, he should have enough money. From what I’ve seen, he seems to be wasting a lot of it on women and alcohol. Please do get the money for me.” (idk if i can write him lol the MLOS missions were like the only time he talked the whole time so…)

Percival took the paper from him, sighing in discontent. Why couldn’t he get somebody else to do the job for once?

“What’s gotten you so riled up?” his lover teased, smoothing out the crease next to the older man’s brow. 

“Have to do another job. Charlie Samson owes a debt and I have to go receive it since he’s too lazy to come and pay it back.”

“Charlie Samson?” Queenie questioned from beside them. “Oh, I’ve seen him before. Always has a new lady on his arm. It’s going to be hard getting money from his pocket  
since he seems to always be in public.”

Percival scoffed, “Well, beating it out of him isn’t an option; we’d have the law on us in just a few moments. Obviously, from what I’ve heard, he won’t give the money for me if I asked—unless I was a lady, but I’m not.”

“What if one of the ladies con him? That’ll be easy,” Tina, who had walked over to join the conversation, offered. 

Percival thought it over before saying, “That seems like a good idea. Someone approaches him at the bar and seduces him out of his money. Simple enough. Now, who’ll do it.”

Both Tina and Queenie stayed silent, and Rachel, Sally, and Gretchen were out hunting with Adam.

Queenie suddenly pitched in. “I heard he likes red-head,” she said as she slyly looked over at Newt. Soon, everyone else in their circle was looking at him, and he quickly got the hint.

“Oh, um, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” he stammered, shaking his head as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“It’s a great idea!”

“It’s a horrible idea!” Percival growled, his brows slanting at the woman. “He could get hurt. Plus, he’s not a woman.”

Queenie giggled, “Of course not, silly. That doesn’t mean that I can’t make him look like one. If a lady can disguise herself as a man so easily, why can’t a man masquerade as a woman?”

 

It wasn’t easy at all. 

After some convincing, Newt (and Percival) finally gave in, as long as Percival and another member of the gang were close by. After hearing some more gossip, Samson didn’t seem all that harmless to them, and if something went wrong, the older man couldn’t promise that he wasn’t going to get them all in trouble by shooting someone’s brains out.

The first step was finding a suitable dress for him. The camp didn’t hold any proper corsets for his height, so they had to hope that his natural features were enough to fool the dumb man. They didn’t find any dresses for them either, and they didn’t want to buy him one either—unless, of course, if Percival wanted to see him in it more often—so they had to stick with a blouse fitted with a belt and tucked into a long, flowing black skirts.

To his disappointment, his red hair was styled to the side to show off his eyes. A little makeup was used to sharpen and soften certain features, but not enough to where his freckles would be hidden from view. A fan and black gloves were the final touches added to the disguise.

Newt blushed when he turned around to see his fiance eyeing him up and down, a smirk plastered on his face. The smirk disappeared as Percival took his lover’s gloved hands into his own, grazing his thumbs over his knuckles. “You sure you want to go through this? It’s just some money, love. I’m sure Strauss can leave it to the side.” They both knew Herr Strauss wasn’t that type of man, but Percival didn’t seem to care at that moment. “Believe me, I do love seeing you like this, but not if a man like that has to get close to you.”

The younger man nodded his head, pecking his fiance’s cheek. “I’ll be fine, Percy. I’ll have you watching over me. I trust you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Upon meeting Charlie Samson, Newt immediately regretted agreeing to Queenie’s suggestion. Yes, he would love to help Percival as much as he could, but being around the man simply made his skin crawl. He now knew what it was like to be a woman—being looked at like a toy or a piece of meat. He had never had any sort of attention before his fiance, and Percival looked at him with love and admiration. However, this man—and even some of the other men—looked at him with so much disrespectful intensity that he felt like he was going to throw up.

 

Newton didn’t really have that much of a plan either. The gang members who knew about the job didn’t really bother telling him exactly what he should do. They were more focused on making him look like a lady.

 

Upon entering the saloon, he sought out his target and went to sit in a near corner, making sure he was in Samson’s field of vision. He took out his fan, opening it and waving it in front of his face gently, making sure not to exaggerate the movement. He made sure Samson was looking at him out of the corner of his eye before taking a swift glance at him and moving his eyes back down to his skirt-covered lap, forcing a small smile to curl his red-painted lips.

 

Percival had told him before that one glance of his emerald-green eyes could bring a man to his knees. The thought helped his cheeks and the tips of his ears flush, making it look even more convincing.

 

A few minutes after he entered the saloon, Percival and Tina slipped through the doors and found their own seats on the other side of the brightly-lit room. 

 

Soon after, Samson made his way over to Newt, a sultry smirk quirking his lips. The look almost made Newt’s body shiver in disgust, but he resisted the urge to do so.

 

“Mind telling me your name, gorgeous?” The man asked, the pet name awkward-sounding rolling off his tongue, so unlike his fiance’s smooth, Irish lilt. Samson sounded like he had too many smokes and not enough water, his voice raspy and unattractive. 

 

Far away, he looked close to handsome, but up close, he was quite homely.  His beard was patchy and unkept. His hair was greasy and unstyled. His nose was crooked and slightly red as if he had gotten punched multiple times; Newt didn’t doubt it. 

 

“Artemis,” he replied, allowing the man to take his hand and press his lips against his knuckles. Newt did his best not to cringe at the action, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Percival grip his glass a little too tightly.

 

The man hummed, skimming his fingers over Newt’s arm. “Samson. Charlie Samson. Now, what’s a lovely lady like you doing all alone in such a horrid place?”

Newt found the place quite nice, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he replied, “Hoping to...have a little fun. My husband’s been keeping me all cooped up in the house, but he’s out on some business,” he tried his best to make his voice sound feminine and sultry, and it seemed to fool the man since he offered to buy him a drink. 

 

After a few minutes of Newt pretending to sip on the offered drink and of Samson talking about himself—all lies, of course—the crude man finally offered to take him up to a room. That was a perfect opportunity to get the owed money. He would simply take the man by surprise, strip him of all of his cash and valuables, and be on his merry way.

 

Before allowing himself to be lead to the room, he stole one last glance at his fiance’s face, noting how his usually stoic expression was shadowed with worry. He gave him a reassuring smile before turning back to their target.

 

The room he was lead to was quite spacious and seemed to have cost a lot of money—money that should’ve gotten back to Strauss long before. The walls were a dark red and large bed was set in the middle of the room with silken sheets folded neatly at the foot of it, intricate designs decorating the headboard. A bedside table and even a small wardrobe were added as final touches, meant to keep passerby’s things during their very comfortable stay.

 

Newt was taken by surprise when a pair of chapped lips met his own in a wet, sloppy kiss, causing him to nearly throw up on the spot. He couldn’t fail now. He had to do his part to help the gang. After all, he was just another useless mouth to feed, and he wanted to give back for a change.

 

He powered through it, pretending for a brief moment that it was his fiance in front of him, pressing his hands against his waist and his lips against his own. But he didn’t want to do what he was about to do to his fiance.

 

Just when he was about to strike, he felt a meaty hand hit hard against his abdomen, causing him to fall to his knees. He tried gasping for breath, but he was panicking to much at the sudden turn of events. Newt grasped his ribs, curling in on himself.

 

“Y’know, for a man, you sure are pretty, Artemis—or should I say Newton?” Samson chuckled, licking his dry lips. “You would’ve probably fooled me if your pictures weren’t plastered all over Saint Denis. Your brother’s been looking for ya. Quite worried, that one.”

 

Newt shuddered, his brain trying to take in what had just happened. The man had known all along that he himself was a man, but not only that; he knew  _ who _ he was.

 

“$100 for your  _ safe _ return back to your big brother, but after going through all this trouble to find you, I deserve to have a little fun, don’t I? Once I heard that a pretty red-head was rumored to be hanging around that weird outlaw gang, it was pretty easy to find you. The law’s a little slow, but I guess you guys expected that,” he paused, a wolfish grin splitting his face in two. “Where are they, Newton? Because I don’t think they’re going to be able to save you now.”

 

Newt heard the clicking and thumping of a belt unbuckling and falling to the wooden floor, and he felt his shocked confusion turn into twisted horror. The man was on him in seconds, pawing at the barrier between himself and Newt’s body. He all but tore off Newt’s disguise, leaving him exposed and only in his underclothes. Hands clawed at his pale, freckled skin as they tried to force their way in between his thighs, and he used the little strength remaining in his body to try and push Samson away.

 

He managed to take a gulp of air, his vision flickering as his mind started to shut down. He let out a cry for help, and the next thing he knew, he heard the door being slammed open and saw the blurry man on him being ripped off of him by another unidentifiable figure. The last thing he saw before falling into darkness was red—and a lot of it.

  
  
  


He was conscious when they arrived back at the site, Strauss’ money returned and Newt tucked safely in Percival’s suit jacket—which was miraculously clean—and under his arm. For the next few days, Newton was coddled by his fiance and most of the women of the camp. He had been checked thrice over for any injuries, but the only thing they found was the apple-sized bruise on his abdomen. 

 

Queenie had apologized profusely for bringing up the idea in the first place. He smiled at her and took her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. “It wasn’t your fault,” he had said. “It was just a case of bad luck. You had nothing to do with the outcome.”

 

Newt and Percival were now lying in their cot, the older man’s hand tracing the younger’s waist. His fingers landed on the bruise, grazing the slowly-fading outline. “I’m sorry, love. I wish I could’ve done something,” he sighed, kissing his lover’s temple.

 

Newt brushed a hand through his fiance’s dark locks. “But you did. You got me out of there before it could get any worse, and I’m grateful for that,” he paused. “Maybe I’m just a bad actor.”

 

The man chuckled, moving from his position to be eye-level with the discolored bruise his hand had been on moments before. He gently pressed his lips against the darkened skin, looking up as he went slightly lower where a thin sheet lay above the slighter man’s hips. “You did fine, Newton.”

 

When his fingers reached for the sheet, Newt’s own freckled hand smacked it away. “We’re in camp, ‘Val,” he warned, raising a brow at the outlaw. 

 

Percival pouted, placing both hands back on Newt’s waist. “Fine,” he waited. “...Maybe you could wear a dress again,” he wiggled his eyebrows, which earned him a smack on the head.

  
  


\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You look better in nothing, anyway.”

 

“Percy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Gramander fic so it might've not been that good...oops


End file.
